Here lies Ophelia Finnegan, Hopeless Romantic. Not to be dramatic, but I'm pretty sure that's what my tombstone is going to say.
During my thirty years on this planet, I've made a lot of poor decisions pursuing my ideal man. It may have something to do with my slight obsession with romantic comedies, especially those of the British variety. I mean, if Bridget Jones could find her Mr. Darcy, surely I can too, right?
And if I can't live it, I can at least write a steamy romance novel about it. Except I'm too scared to do that. It's so much safer to stay in my not-at-all fulfilling job and live vicariously through the ClikClak video app. It's all well and good, until my surprise visit to my boyfriend doesn't go as planned, and the video of my humiliation ends up going viral.
In a surprise twist (like any good romantic comedy should have), the guy I'd handed off my phone to film my unexpected humiliation turns out to be hotter than hell British soccer player Xavier Henry. And he's looking to get traded up here to Boston. The quickest way to make that happen is if he becomes an American citizen … by marrying an American woman.
I volunteer as tribute!
OMG, marriage of convenience is my favorite romantic trope of all time, and now I get to live it. If nothing else, I'll have great material for that book I swear I'm going to write. All I have to do is remember that this is pretend and that those rock-hard abs aren't really mine to stroke and lick.
Put me in, coach! I'm ready to take one for the team.
Kisses and hugs, Ophelia